


We Will Dance Together Until Spring Comes

by GeeLiz_98



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Domestic Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, M/M, More Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26942368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeeLiz_98/pseuds/GeeLiz_98
Summary: Taemin and Jongin dreamed of being ballet dancers for their entire youth. They fought hard and they reached the top together. Yet their main goal in life wasn't ever their own success really. Because there was something far more important to them. And her name was Bom.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taemin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	We Will Dance Together Until Spring Comes

A career as a dancer was never going to be an easy one. The hours are always arduously long, rests are few and far between, the body is both the gateway to a passion and to making a living. Hours not spent on stage, performing until the tendons in one's feet are fit to snap, are spent dancing in a studio much too bright. Hours not spent dancing are spent so as to prepare the body to dance to its full potential, or dressing a dancer up to the nines so that they shine on stage when all eyes are cast unto them. 

These are things that all dancers know before taking up their ballet shoes, and committing themselves to hard work, relentless drive, and cataclysmic downfalls followed by the greatest of highs. 

These were things that both Taemin and Jongin were well aware of before they chose their path in life. Even as children, they could see the way that ballet consumed their lives. Time usually spent with friends in parks would be spent in perfectly parallel rows, standing at barres, doing countless port de bras until they ached right down to their fingers, then doing pirouette after pirouette to the cries of their teacher pleading with them to turn their head  _ first,  _ dragging their tiny bodies after they toppled onto the floor from dizziness with much disgruntlement. 

When other children their age would play on the school playground, kicking about a ball or singing the most popular pop song of the week, Taemin and Jongin would dance. They would scrape their knees with every other jump but would always be the first in their class to master each move as a result. They would walk home together, chanting the steps of their latest class dance verbatim, even going so far as to reel them off in their sleep. Such is the mind of a dancer; rhythmic counting, constant recounting of complex routines. 

As friends, there could not have been a more perfect match. Taemin and Jongin understood each other in a way that no other children could. They understood the smiles creeping through unrested eyes, they understood what pain for the sake of passion felt like. They needn’t explain themselves to the others who mocked them, teased them when they returned to school from ballet exams with slicked back hair and excitement on their faces, knowing they were closer and closer to where they wanted to be.

Even as teenagers, their love never died. On countless occasions, the boys would be known to skip school to head to the city and watch whatever ballet they could, saving up every penny they could possibly afford to lose. Homework would never be done but bags of frozen peas would always be pressed up against elevated ankles, much to the confusion of their peers. 

It was on one of these many secret outings that both boys decided that this would be their lives. 

By some kind of miracle, they had managed to snag a ticket to one of the earliest performances of the all-male cast of Swan Lake. Utterly enraptured by the skills of the powerful men on stage, re-enacting the most tragic of love stories with such finesse, there was no doubt in their minds. 

“We’ll be up there one day, Taemin-ah,” Jongin whispered as they were entranced by the two main dancers on stage, all strength, all muscle with a touch of elegance, portraying agonising love in such a way that it could be felt in the rafters. “Me and you. We’ll tell this story. You and I will show the world how much we love to dance. I’ll show the world how much I love dancing with you.” 

Never for a moment did they doubt themselves on their way to the top. With the confidence and self-assuredness of teenage boys who didn’t know any better, they hurtled towards the finish line without hesitation. 

But something they didn’t anticipate being a hurdle would be an unexpected romance. 

As friends, they had always been closer than anyone else they knew. They were inseparable. Where Taemin went, Jongin followed. More often than not, they would accidentally fall asleep in one another’s arms, finding a certain comfort in each other’s presence. 

It seemed to make sense to their parents. After all, their situation was unique and they offered each other a shoulder to lean on when things were too tiring. They spoke their own language and lived in their own unique world inaccessible to anyone else. But no one had quite anticipated how deep their feelings ran. 

They had discovered their feelings themselves through a spontaneous kiss. As though they were in a Hollywood film, hidden away in a side road, underneath the pummeling rain. It just happened. Practice had ended late, the adrenaline was high and hormones were rife so the need took over and they kissed. 

At first, they had a whirlwind romance. Kissing in empty changing rooms and studios plunged into darkness, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. 

That feeling of lust, of overwhelming passion, quickly turned back into love. But the love was different this time around. It was deeper, more intense, and sure to endure. Age was not a factor when Taemin and Jongin decided to love each other forever.

It seemed to them that there was no couple on earth more suited to each other than them. If they wanted to dance all night, they could do it together. If they wanted to sleep all day, neither would begrudge the other. In fact, he would lie there with him. 

The stars converged and their wishes came true, as they had hoped, when they were accepted into a dance company together. And the picture was complete when they were both cast as the lead roles in Swan Lake. Together. 

As Jongin had declared on that evening, in the dark, in soft tones, they were finally able to show the world what love looked like to them. What their love for dance could look like, as well as their love for each other.

There was only one more piece that they needed to come along in order to complete the puzzle for good. 

And her name was Bom.

  
  
  


Tuesdays were always ridiculously hectic. 

As the only weekday with two scheduled performances, juggling work and life, in general, was challenging to say the least. 

Especially when the babysitter cancelled. 

“ _ I’m sorry, Taemin but the office called at the last minute,”  _ his friend Wonshik said over the phone, “ _ I can pick her up from nursery but I can’t go home...can’t you call Baekhyun? He could take Bom home with him when he picks Jieun up from school.” _

Taemin didn’t have the energy to deal with this, nor could he stomach the frantic look on Jongin’s face, his boyfriend sensing that something was amiss merely from the tension in Taemin’s neck.

He covered the mic on the phone with one hand and asked, “does Baekhyun eat with Chanyeol’s family on Tuesdays or Thursdays?”

“Thursdays.”   
  


“ _ Shit.  _ Okay...erm,” he racked his brain for a solution, never having been in this situation before during his daughter’s 4 years of life given their large network of friends. “I guess...well, you’ll have to bring her here.”

“ _ You sure?!” _

“Taemin-ah!” Jongin cried as Taemin finished up his phone call, “she can’t come here! Where will we put her? She can’t sit in the theatre because she’s too tiny. We’ll be running around like headless chickens all day...I...she’ll go on the rampage.”

Unable to help laughing at Jongin, Taemin snickered into his hand, attempting to turn and hide his face but unsuccessful; Jongin could still see him in the studio mirror.

“Don’t fret, Jongin,” Taemin dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged next to his boyfriend, pulling him in for a kiss, “we’ll sort it. Even if she has to nap in the wings. She’ll cope.”

Reluctantly, Jongin agreed, conceding so that he could rest in Taemin’s arms for a few moments. 

“Oi! Lovebirds!”

The head of make-up, Taeyeon called as she burst into the studio brandishing a foundation brush. She was always one for tough love, especially when she had to work with two of the messiest, most scatter-brained men in the industry, at the same time.

“There’s a tiny human in reception. Calls you “dads” and claims she needs to urinate. She’s cute but that sounds like a  _ you  _ problem,” she jabbed a finger in the direction of Jongin, who groaned, way too tired to take the stairs down to fetch her. 

“I’ll go get her, Jongin,” Taemin offered, knowing that his boyfriend was particularly tired that day. 

“Na-ah-ah,” Taeyeon wagged a finger, “no. See, I need you, Lee Taemin because you look like a corpse.”

“What?!” He cried, offended.

“I’m never letting you do your own make-up again! The lights washed you out so much, earlier! If I didn’t know better I’d think you were actually dead.”   
  


He tutted, ready to argue with his friend if he had to, “I’m a  _ Swan _ , Taeyeon. I’m supposed to look  _ white _ . Like a  _ swan _ .”

“Not clammy and sickly, though,” she said, ending the discussion, “come with me.”

Begrudgingly, Taemin dragged himself up off the floor and waved goodbye to Jongin who let himself be pulled onto his feet. 

“Don’t think you’re free, Jongin,” Taeyeon quipped on her way out of the door, “Kibum needs you.”

“ _ Why?” _ Jongin complained like a petulant child.

“Save the whingeing for the toddler downstairs. He needs to adjust your trousers. I swear, Jongin, if you spend a second more in that gym getting beefy, that man is going to rip your jugular out through your neck.”

“Aww,” Taemin teased, patting Jongin on his very toned belly, “don’t be mean to my 6 favourite things in the world.” 

Taeyeon didn’t entertain him by commenting any further but she did grimace for good measure. 

“Shift your ass!” she demanded instead before storming off down the hall.

  
  
  


The dressing room was always the most hectic room in the theatre, especially between shows when everyone dumped their torn up, tattered costumes on the rails for Kibum to sort out for them. As much as Kibum tried to keep it organised, his efforts were fruitless. 

But for a small child, it was like being taken into the dress up box of dreams. 

Giggling with excitement, Bom hopped from rack to rack, rifled through boxes and gathered up old ballet shoes, trying on everything she could get her hands on. For someone so young, the collection of outfits was like a treasure trove for the actively imaginative. 

“Does she always have this much energy?” 

Forcing a smile as much as he could whenever Bom looked his way, Kibum looked moderately horrified. Every time a rack wobbled or a ribbon came away from a pointe shoe, he flinched. When she wasn’t looking his way, he observed the child as though she were an alien creature. 

Then he saw Jongin jumping up and down, testing the strength of his trousers and sighed. 

“She gets it from Taemin. Not me,” Jongin insisted, his voice wobbling with each jump. 

With no airs or graces, Kibum scanned Jongin’s bouncing body, looking him up and down with a grimace. 

“Sure.” 

Sensing some kind of excitement from her father’s erratic movements, Bom toddled over to the two men with a huge grin on her face. 

She had found a tutu shoved in a box somewhere - goodness knows where exactly considering there were no tutus involved in this production - and had unsuccessfully attempted to put it on. Unless tutus are generally intended to straddle the chest. 

“Look, daddy!” She squeaked, her words poorly forming as a result of a single missing tooth which had yet to make a reappearance, “I’m a fairy!” 

The way Jongin’s face lit up with love and admiration made even Kibum grin - not a massive lover of children but not a grinch, either.

“Aww! You look beautiful, my lovely!” Jongin was clearly infatuated by his daughter and he looked at her like the sun shone from her eyes only. 

“Is it nice?” She asked, doing a little twirl and bouncing on her tiny, chubby legs which would soon shoot up. 

Of course, Jongin nodded and pulled his phone out to snap a photo so that he could show it to Taemin later on. There was no way he’d let Taemin miss his daughter’s first time in a tutu. Jongin wouldn’t be surprised if her other dad burst into tears at the mere sight of it. 

It was only when Bom spotted Kibum out of the corner of her eye that she stopped hopping about, struggling to move in her oddly placed tutu. 

“Who’s that man, daddy?” 

Her eyes were curious as they stared at Kibum who wasn’t really paying attention, instead being caught up in a fight between a pair of feathered trousers and a safety pin. 

To a child, he was probably a curious looking man, what with his neon yellow doc martens and patchwork shirt that would undoubtedly look hideous on anyone else. Even his geometric shaped glasses with no lenses would fascinate a child who had never seen 

anything of the sort. 

“This is daddy’s friend,” Jongin explained kneeling down to his daughter’s level, “his name is Kibum. He makes the clothes for the dancers.”

“Kibam?” Bom struggled to make the correct sounds but her efforts were adorable. Without question, she hopped over to Kibum and tugged at his trouser leg, “excuse me! Do you make dresses for ballerinas, Kibam?”

Stopping what he was doing and turning to face the little girl, Kibum sniggered with a kind smile and crouched down to her level. 

“Yes, sweetie. And you are the prettiest ballerina of all. Except,” he looked over to Jongin for his silent permission before twiddling Bom around so that he could pull the tutu into the correct position around her waist, “perfect.”

Bom’s excited giggles were intoxicating as she skipped and jumped about the room.

“Are you really my daddy’s friend?” She asked, amazed that her dad knew someone who could turn her into a pretty ballerina at the drop of a hat. A little girl’s dream, for sure. 

“Yeah, but not this daddy,” Kibum said in a deceptively flowery tone, knowing that Bom wasn’t paying attention, “I like your other daddy. This one emits so much testosterone it makes me feel sick…”

“Hey!” Jongin snapped, taking huge offence to this comment, “you’re so mean to me!”   
  


“ _ Mean?  _ Are we 12?” He mocked, “I’ve told you before if you don’t stay out of that gym I’m going to wring your neck! I can’t keep buying new fabric every time you have a protein shake. Taemin manages it!” 

Jongin pouted, “Taemin is different. He’s like a gazelle…”   
  


“Daddy, what’s a gazelle?” A tiny voice called from underneath a pile of coats on the floor. “Am I a gazelle?”

“No, baby,” Jongin called over his shoulder, still glaring at his friend. 

“Because I am a ballerina!” She declared before falling into a fit of giggles. 

  
  
  


Things were so hectic backstage before the show, especially because Jongin had managed to misplace one of his shoes which had all of the staff running around frantically. Taemin was off somewhere shovelling a salad into his mouth because he spent his lunch hour napping. So, it was impossible for Bom to even catch a glance from her dads. 

She wasn’t at all bothered, mind. She had been left to pass between the laps and arms of every single dancer, understudy, and chaperone going, over the moon to have so much attention. 

While the show was in progress, Bom had the pleasure of sitting with Kibum - whom she had affectionately decided to call “Kibi”, somehow finding it impossible to use his actual name - and Taeyeon who had calmed down from her earlier outburst. 

“She’s so cute,” Taeyeon sighed, watching longingly as Bom played with an empty box of crackers, somehow managing to turn the pointless object into a fun game.

“Are you hormonal?” Kibum asked as he frantically sent messages on his phone, always the socialite. 

“No, you cheeky bitch.” She didn’t find that amusing in the least, “I just think it’s nice, you know? That two clowns like Jongin and Taemin could raise such a lovely little girl.”

Kibum placed his phone down and nodded thoughtfully, smiling at Bom as she used the empty cracker box as a makeshift toy car. 

“They are clowns,” he admitted, “but they’re also angels. They’re smart. They have big hearts. And they love her.”

Both friends watched on, reminiscing about their friends, having known them for over a year before they announced that they were looking to adopt. To their friends, it was a natural progression in the most sickening relationship they had ever seen. There was so much love and affection floating around in the Lee-Kim household that it made so much sense to introduce a little one who could share that love with them. 

This doesn’t mean there weren’t concerns, however. Taemin and Jongin were busy men with an awful lot of pressure on their shoulders. There wasn’t a person at the company who didn’t need them for something, sometimes dragging them up and down the country for press meetings or for talks. It seemed difficult to find a place for a tiny human who needed their every last morsel of attention. 

And that’s where their friends came in. Bom was a child with perhaps more adults in her life who loved her, cared about her, and wanted to see her flourish than anyone else. And that was testament to how much everyone loved her dads.

“I admire them for that,” Kibum said and Taeyeon wholeheartedly agreed. 

“Would you have kids, Key? Have you and Minho ever talked about it?”

After a second of thought, Kibum shrugged his shoulders. 

“We have but,” he sighed sadly, “it’s hard, you know? If we decide to do it, we have to decide how we do it. Then we need to gather together enough money to pay for it and it really isn’t feasible. I think you have to  _ really want  _ kids to put yourself through that...you can’t make a decision like that on a whim.”

Taeyeon hummed. She had never really thought of it that way. For her and her girlfriend, children had never been on the cards and at least they had wombs. 

“If I could accidentally impregnate Minho, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind.”   
  


“What do you mean if  _ you  _ could impregnate Mi-”

“ _ All swans into the wings for the couple dance, please. And whoever stole my lunch out of the cloakroom fridge can choke.”  _

The stage manager called over the tannoy, signalling that it was almost time for Taemin and Jongin to perform their first dance of the show as the swan and the prince. 

“Hey, key?” Taeyeon asked, “do you reckon Bom would want to watch the dance?”

  
  


It was surprisingly easy to get Bom through to the wings. Despite being an excitable child, she wasn’t a noisy one and she knew when it was important to be quiet. As long as she was allowed to jump up and down the steps to the stage door to keep busy, she wasn’t bothered. 

The wings were slightly crowded given that every single male cast member was limbering up to go on stage for a long dance number. The wings were dark and hot but Bom seemed to be unaware, entirely caught up in the buzz and excitement of it all.

Her dad, Taemin, was actually standing in the wings, too, performing some kind of elaborate hamstring stretch. His feathered trousers and white paint made him almost unrecognisable to his daughter but she was captivated by the mystery of him, regardless. 

Briefly, Taemin waved at her after spotting her a short way away from him but her hesitant wave back suggested that she didn’t think she was looking at her dad. Instead witnessing a magical creature who was elegant, strong, and beautiful. 

She was captivated. 

“Kibi,” she whispered in the uncontrolled way of a child, “what’s that?” 

She pointed to her father with sparkling eyes, mystified as she watched the swans begin to dance onto the stage, getting into formation. When her father took his first majestic leap onto the stage, she gasped, amazed at the flying man. 

“That’s your daddy.”

Bom couldn’t take her eyes away as she watched, listening intently as Kibum explained the story of the swan and the prince, falling in love against all of the odds. He explained the story of the man turned swan who fell in love with a human prince, both of them fighting for a love that shouldn’t have been possible. But was. 

With every leap, lift, and turn, Bom tried to imitate her dad’s movements, assisted by Kibum who graciously held her hands and twirled her around, even lifting her into the air in time with her fathers’ own lifts. 

When the dancers piled off the stage, they all stopped to wave at her, knowing whose daughter she was and Bom felt like a celebrity. Even more exciting than that, her dads both ran off into the same wing and, as soon as they saw her, they smothered her in kisses before running off again. 

Never in her short life had she been more thrilled.

  
  


Even in the car on the way home, Bom was still overly energetic. The ballet’s songs had somehow stuck in her head and she hummed them mindlessly, fidgeting about in her seat as she did so.

“Sit still Bom,” Taemin gently chastised, patting her on her wobbling knee from his seat in the front.

She stopped moving about but she was still far too awake for the late hour. At least she didn’t have to go to nursery the next day because her dads didn’t have to work. 

“Did you have fun today?” Jongin smiled at her through the rearview mirror as he drove, admiring the way the passing street lights made her dark hair shine prettily. He thought she was the prettiest girl in the world. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” She chanted, “Kibi made me a ballerina then he said you and daddy are ballerinas!”

Both men sniggered at her slight mistake. 

“I could have been a ballerina,” Jongin claimed, “I reckon I’d look good in a tutu.”   
  


Bom thought that was very, very funny and garbled about her daddy in a pink dress and being a pretty princess.

“You wouldn’t last five seconds en pointe…”

“Like you would…”

“I have, actually,” Taemin bragged, feeling a bit smug, “I did a special performance when I was 22...Jongin do you ever pay attention?”

“When I can remember what day it is, I’ll remember you next, for sure,” he promised, stroking a finger under Taemin’s chin as he focused on the road. 

  
  


Wednesday mornings were always lazy in their house. They had nowhere to go and none of them particularly loved going outside unless it was absolutely necessary and they had a garden if Bom needed some vitamin D. After spending all of their days physically exerting themselves, the last thing they wanted to do was  _ move _ . 

“Do we have any chores to do today?” Jongin asked begrudgingly. 

He was lying down on the sofa, his head resting in Taemin’s lap. Taemin was wearing really short pyjama shorts so he, for one, was grateful for the warmth provided. 

“Don’t think so,” Taemin mumbled, mainly focused on running his fingers through Jongin’s hair, “unless you want to cook something nice for dinner?”

Jongin looked utterly disgusted by the suggestion, “no way. My mom dropped some pre-made food off the other day. Why would I cook if I don’t have to?” 

Taemin couldn’t argue with that. He wasn’t a massive fan of cooking, being so distracted by the goings on in his own mind that he often forgot he was even cooking in the first place which resulted in rice burned to the bottom of pans, disintegrated pasta, and cereal for dinner as a substitute. Whenever Jongin cooked, everyone got a pile of meat with a side of potentially more meat. It was safer to let Jongin’s mom cook for them. 

“Fine then. We don’t have to do anything at all,” Taemin thought for a second before calling to Bom who was playing on the floor with her dolls, not interested in what the grown ups were doing, “hey, Bom! Is there anything you want to do?”

“Ballerina.”

She was like a stuck record. Since the night before, at every given opportunity, Bom had jabbered on about ballet. She hadn’t stopped asking where her new best friend ‘Kibi’ was, when she could have her own tutu, or when she could dance with her daddies. It was relentless. It seemed she had caught the bug. 

  
  
  


“Do you think we should send her to classes?” 

Taemin and Jongin were lying in bed a few nights later, cuddled up together tightly, unable to sleep without the feeling of skin against skin. When they were forced to sleep apart, it felt as though a part of them was missing. 

Taemin hummed. He was circling patterns onto Jongin’s bare stomach, admiring the slight tummy that had sprung up after a particularly indulgent meal. 

“Would she like classes?” Taemin pondered, “she doesn’t really like being left alone…”

Whether as a result of her turbulent early years, or whether she was simply a small child who preferred the company of her dads, Bom didn’t like being taken anywhere new. Getting her to go to nursery the first few times was a complete nightmare. 

“I know but...if we don’t get her in a tutu in the next few weeks, I am afraid she’ll turn feral on us.” 

Rolling over to rest his head in the crook of Jongin’s neck, muffling a laugh. It wasn’t as though Jongin was wrong, he was a little hypocritical. 

“She reminds of a little boy I used to know.” 

Because Jongin used to be exactly the same. He would dance and dance until he fell asleep under a coat in the dance studio. He would talk about ballet with anyone who would listen. So, Taemin, usually. 

“Me too,” Jongin smiled lovingly at his boyfriend, admiring the beautiful man he had become. 

Looking into Taemin’s eyes, Jongin leaned in to kiss his boyfriend on the lips. They clasped their hands together under the sheets and smiled into each other’s mouths. A warmth settled between them and they could have stayed like that forever. 

They were too playful for that, however, and Taemin couldn’t resist the opportunity to poke Jongin in his belly button while his guard was down. In return, Jongin licked Taemin’s nose.

“Ew! You’re disgusting,” Taemin cringed, wiping the spit from his nose. 

“But you love me…”

“Duh.” 

Taemin pecked his lip quickly before rolling on top of him, resting his chin on Jogin’s chest, straining to make eye contact. 

“What are we going to do about our argumentative ballerina, then?” 

Moving his eyes to stare at the ceiling in deep thought, Jongin hummed pensively. 

“Do they still do mother and kid classes at our old school?” He suggested. 

“You, mister,” Taemin lifted himself onto his hands, hovering over Jongin in awe, “are a genius!” 

There was a slight snag in their plan, however. 

“We aren’t her moms…”

It was a minor technicality, seemingly, but it could also wind up being a big problem. Taemin and Jongin had found that, as dads, they were not expected in certain spaces intended for mothers to spend quality time with their mothers. At playgroup, they would often find that they were the only men there, receiving quizzical looks from the moms. Taking Bom swimming was a nightmare and they often had to palm her off on one of the other moms so that she could change with her friends. 

But her lack of mother shouldn’t have meant that she lacked opportunity and her dads were more than willing to get the odd stink eye in return for allowing her dreams to come true. 

“Fine,” Taemin sighed, flopping back down on top of Jongin, “which of us will pretend to be the mom?”

This was a running joke between the two of them. Though Taemin was “all man” as Jongin liked to put it, he did have strikingly feminine features. With the body of a true dancer, he wasn’t an overly muscular man, instead being more on the dainty side. Without compromising any of his strength or power. 

However, that did lead to the odd occasion on which he was mistaken for Jongin’s very stylish mother, especially when he dug out the eyeshadow and winter faux-fur coat. 

“I think you should,” Taemin suggested, “I don’t think anyone would question it. Sure, you have massive feet but-”

“My feet aren’t massive!” Jongin was strangely sensitive about his feet for someone who spent most of his time in disgusting old man sandals with his toes hanging out. Taemin would pay for the chance to give his boyfriend a pedicure but Jongin wouldn’t sit still for long enough and it wouldn’t be worth the stress. 

“Sure, babe,” 

This kind of teasing banter was pretty common around the pair, so much so that Bom had started to develop quite the attitude, too. What started as harmless banter, the two of them tearing the shit out of each other because that’s what they did (there wasn’t a dot left unspoken between the two of them. They knew the backs of each other’s hands as well as their own so there was no point in superfluous pleasantries), slowly became a bad influence to their daughter. 

“Do you think she’ll behave herself at dance class?” Jongin questioned, having his concerns as a result of his daughter’s tendency to be rebellious. “She behaved today but...behaving around someone like Kim Kibum who has never held back even once in his life and a room of judgy moms...not the same.”

“Dunno,” Taemin was honest but he was hardly comforting, “as long as the teacher doesn’t have a shit haircut, I don’t think she’ll cause any trouble…”

“Taemin-aaaah!” Jongin whined in distress because he knew it was true. Bom had taken a liking to making snarky comments about people because she heard her dads doing the same for fun and it had become too much of a habit. And since meeting Taeyeon and Kibum, she had only gotten worse. 

“Don’t worry!” Taemin chuckled and plastered kisses over every inch of Jongin’s face, “she’s a troublemaker but, I’m telling you, one day she’ll rule the world. With a mind and a sharp tongue like that, she’ll be untouchable.”

  
  


On the morning of her first dance class, Bom was like a child on Christmas morning. Much to her fathers’ chagrin, she was up at the crack of dawn and piling herself into their bed. As soon as the sun was up, she was awake. Her class wasn’t until 11 am.

“Morning!” She cried as she burst in the room, immediately diving onto the bed and on top of Taemin and Jongin, causing them to let out simultaneous groans. She had far too much energy. 

“Hi, baby,” Taemin was barely able to say. His throat was really dry and his eyes wouldn’t stay open. 

Jongin hadn’t even opened his. 

Allowing Bom to slide in between them, Taemin pulled back the covers and pulled the small girl into his side for a tight hug, taking the time to sniff the top of her head. She must have been warm in the night because her soft hair was sticking to her forehead. Taemin on the other hand was in his fleecy pyjamas because the cold was too oppressive for him. 

Jongin was in his boxer shorts and...one sock. 

“Are you excited, baby?” Taemin whispered. 

Her nod in reply was no less than enthusiastic. Her face was glowing. 

“I’m really, really  _ escited _ , daddy!” She whispered back, “I can wear my new tutu as well?” 

Technically, she didn’t have a tutu. They were far too expensive and, sadly, Bom’s dads couldn’t justify forking out for what should be a long term investment for a tiny girl who may get over ballet in mere months and a little girl who would only grow bigger, at that. 

Instead, the help of Kibum had been called upon and he had managed to pull together a pale blue leotard with a calf-length mesh skirt, complete with tiny sparkles. Although a little put out at first, Bom was far too taken by the glitter and by her favourite colour to even remember what she was missing after a short while. 

Another hurdle had been what would forever be referred to as “shoe gate”. Bom hadn’t realised that pointe shoes were not on the table and the fury was unprecedented. 

How could she be a ballerina without ballerina shoes? There was nearly an uproar in the dance supplies shop when the shop owner produced two small, white leather pumps. They were too “uncomfy”, they “smelled funny”, they made “nasty noises” when she rubbed her feet together (something her dads tried to insist she wouldn’t ever do. She wasn’t having it.) 

Taemin and Jongin were forced to explain to her that  _ they  _ didn’t wear “pretty ballerina shoes” and they danced for a living. Every single day of their lives. It didn’t work of course and Bom wouldn’t stop insisting that it didn’t count because they weren’t ladies. 

The woman in the shop was fascinated by the entire conversation, seemingly trying to work out who Jongin and Taemin were. It didn’t take long for her to put two and two together and draw out her own copy of a Swan Lake programme.

On the one condition that both men sign her programme (not that it would be worth anything anywhere other than within the ballet circuit where everyone knew each other anyway), she agreed to do Bom a favour. She would sew ribbons on the shoes and throw in a pink dance bag with “proper dance shoes” embroidered on the front. 

Usually, Taemin and Jongin would refuse such an offer but, on that occasion, they were far too exhausted to care.

  
  


In the car on the way to the class, Bom’s excitement was palpable. 

She had so many questions that her dads thought their ears would fall off. 

“Will daddies dance, too?” 

Yes. Parent participation was the entire purpose of taking Bom to this specific class. They would be forced to join in lest they look like awful parents. 

“Will daddies help me if I’m stuck?”

A tricky one. No. Because that was what the teacher was being paid for. Daddies were there to keep Bom company, not to teach her how to dance. 

“Why?” 

Because daddies aren’t ballerinas so they don’t know how to do it properly. Girls dance differently. That was Jongin’s contribution to the discussion and if there just so happened to be little boys there and Taemin had to explain why Bom’s father had lied to her, Jongin would be sleeping on the sofa. 

They had made a deal in the car; do not tell the dance teacher that you have dancer dads. They were there to make friends, have fun, and mind their own business. Bom had promised to stay quiet but there was always a risk. Always. 

Upon arrival, the three of them had to crowd outside of a small studio in a narrow corridor with all of the other parents. There was not a single other dad in sight but no one seemed to bat an eyelid. There were around 15 girls in the hall, varying levels of excitement, some of them stropping because they wanted to go home. Bom seemed suspicious of them all, probably because she was relatively shy. Having spent most of her years around adults, apart from Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s daughter, she was always wary around other kids. Even at nursery, she preferred to stay by herself. 

When they were finally let into the studio, Bom dragged her dads to the far corner of the room, practically shoving them up against the barre. She was too shy to be close to the front and clung to Taemin’s trouser leg for comfort.

“Are you alright, Bommie?” Jongin crouched down to her level, concerned given her excitement before. He hoped that she hadn’t got cold feet already when she had wanted this for so long. 

“Lots of little girls,” she whispered, “and the room is strange.” 

Her dads were confused at first before they glanced at each other in realisation. She didn’t like the mirrored walls. It would be quite strange, they surmised, for a person to see a room full of strangers reflected in the walls twice over. 

“That’s so you can see yourself dancing,” Taemin explained. He took her hand and walked her closer to the mirror, placing his hand on the barre, “see! You can see if you're doing the dance right!”

Out of habit, he held onto the barre and began to move his feet between the five main positions while Bom stared at his feet in the mirror. 

Then he felt a tap on the shoulder and whipped his head around to see a woman standing there watching him. 

“Are you a new teaching assistant, dear?” She asked with a friendly, pleasant smile. 

Taemin swore he could sense Jongin’s teasing without even looking at him. 

“I...no,” he scratched behind his head anxiously, “this is my daughter I...I was explaining what the mirrors are for…”

“How lovely!” The woman seemed disproportionately impressed by Taemin’s attentiveness. He was attentive but, at the same time, he only wanted to prevent a public meltdown due to his tiny companion’s anxiety. 

“We don’t get many dads around here!” She said as though it were a dirty little secret, “they tend to not be interested in this kind of thing. You are braver than my husband would ever be!” 

The irony to her statement wasn’t missed on Taemin. After all, it wasn’t as though this was his first time in a ballet class but he only smiled coyly. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself and he liked the idea of being seen as a trophy dad. 

“ _ Achully, _ ” Bom spoke up from her lower down position, once again knocking her dad’s senses back into him, “I don’t have a mommy-” 

The woman looked  _ mortified  _ and Taemin had to subtly nudge Bom to force her to elaborate. She wasn’t taking the hint but thankfully, she had telepathic dads. 

“Because she has two dads,” Jongin jumped in, slightly frantic, “she doesn’t have a mom because she has us two instead.” He gestured between himself and Taemin with a smile but Taemin could see the anxiety in his eyes at the forced revelation. It was unavoidable when meeting new people but he couldn’t let Bom pick up on it. The world’s problems weren’t their daughter’s problems to carry around with her.

Thankfully, the woman looked nothing short of relieved, even laughing hysterically to let out her nervous energy. 

“Oh my!” She wasn’t very subtle in the way she looked Jongin up and down, “it’s always nice to see fresh faces.” She offered a somewhat flirty wink before heading off. 

Jongin seemed a little startled.

“You’re a dilf,” Taemin spoke into Jongin’s ear and could sense his irritation. 

“Yeah,” he replied in a cool tone, “and you’re a show off…”

“I was  _ showing her  _ what the  _ mirrors  _ are for!” 

  
  


The class started off with games and other strange antics; running around in circles, skipping about and making a lot of noise. Luckily, the parents were exempt from getting involved in the warm-up stage of the lesson so they were able to stand and watch their daughter slowly start to relax. Eventually, once she had got the blood pumping and had the chance to speak to some of the other girls, her excitement returned. 

The basics came first. No ballet dancer is complete without knowing how to control their feet and that’s where they started. 

The teacher stood at the front of the room, a middle-aged woman who was slightly too stern for a teacher of young children, such was the nature of many ballet teachers. She wasn’t there to make friends, she was there to hone talent. Even Jongin felt a little intimidated by her and wished she would crack a smile. 

“Okay girls,” the woman bellowed, “place your feet into first position. Like this,” she demonstrated the shape the feet should take with her hands and the children, along with their parents, shuffled to get their feet into the right place. 

One by one, the teacher went to each student and looked at their feet. Some girls received high praises, much to the pride of their mothers, while others had their feet forcefully moved into the right place until they could hold it for more than 5 seconds. For Jongin, it was like a vision into the past. 

“She’s scaring me,” Jongin mithered to Taemin who looked like he was having  _ fun. _

Bom, on the other hand, was concentrating so hard that it was a wonder smoke wasn’t coming out of her ears. Her little tongue was poking out as she tried really hard to get her feet into the ‘V’ shape. 

“Daddy, am I doing it?” 

Taemin took a side glance, not wanting to look like a know-it-all and quietly instructed her to turn her right foot out that tiniest bit more. 

“Perfect, baby,” he congratulated her, “you’re a natural.”

Her other dad looked like he might be sick. 

“Oh, God! She’s coming.”

“You’re a fool Kim Jongin.”

The teacher was heading over, her presence imposing. She had clearly been a successful dancer in her time, having the physique of a woman who had seen a difficult routine in her time. Her frame was small, her jaw all sharp edges, but her muscles were unmistakable. 

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” 

She went to Bom first, looking a bit too closely considering this wasn’t a serious class, and raised an eyebrow. 

“Has she danced before?”

“No. Never,” Taemin’s voice was levelled but he would have cracked if this scary woman was about to criticise his daughter. 

But the woman did nothing of the sort. 

“Hmm,” she said, inspecting Bom’s feet and the turn out of her knees, “there might be a spot for this one in one of my private classes. We’ll see.” 

Oh. That was a surprise. Bom would never have understood what that meant and was unbothered by the woman’s words; she only wanted praise and smiles in a way that she could understand. But Jongin was almost vibrating beside Taemin and it was very, very hard not to laugh at him. 

As she had with all of the other parents, the teacher looked to Taemin and Jongin to get them involved. More so to humble the kids, than anything. 

Taemin went first. The teacher looked impressed and raised an eyebrow at him. He simply offered an innocent smile in return. 

“Good.” She almost sounded like she didn’t want to say it and moved over to Jongin quickly. She liked Jongin because he was too distracted by his own fear to do the move right. 

“Your knees are bent.” Jongin thought she took far too much pleasure in telling him that and, for all she knew, he had never done it before in his life. It seemed mighty unfair. 

“I-” he went to defend himself but she really didn’t care. 

He was devastated, his pout clear for all to see, but Taemin couldn’t help but find it a little funny. After all, Jongin was one of the best dancers Taemin knew. All he could do to placate him was offer a peck on the cheek and a quick side hug. 

The rest of the class was spent taking the students through the other four positions but less attention was given to them since this was only a class for children under 6. It wasn’t as though they’d be doing any serious routines in the near future. 

To wrap the lesson up, the teacher asked that everyone stand in a circle and to go around the room, each person being asked to demonstrate their favourite ballet move.

Most of the girls in the class repeated one of the moves from that class. Others did strange renditions of moves that they had seen on TV. All of the parents performed in earnest, some braver than others to incorporate arms into their moves which hadn’t been covered in the lesson. 

When it came to Taemin’s turn, he opted for modesty. He placed his feet into fifth position and incorporated the accompanying arms out of habit. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself. 

Bom opted to copy him and surprised the teacher, once again by doing it well. She really was taking this whole dancing thing into her stride.

Then came Jongin’s turn. Poor Jongin had developed an inferiority complex within the hour since the lesson had started and felt the need to redeem himself. 

So he did a full pirouette. 

“Wow!” Bom gasped, along with most of the other girls in the room who had just had their first glance of what real ballet looks like in their ballet class. 

Taemin wanted to crawl into a hole and vanish while the other parents looked at Jongin as though they wished he was in a hole. They were green with jealousy. 

“Oh my God, Jongin…”

“Where did you learn to do that!?” The teacher seemed genuinely confused as to how the man who couldn’t even turn his feet out could actually dance.

“My daddy is a ballerina!” 

And there was the proof that Taemin needed that his boyfriend was still the same little boy who cared deeply about proving himself. And that his daughter had no filter. 

  
  
  
  


10 years later 

In the Lee-Kim household they had three rules: 

  1. No shoes in the house. Even if your friend’s moms let you.
  2. Dance clothes go straight in the wash when you get home.
  3. Straight home after practice. 



“Where the hell is she? It’s 8 pm!” 

Jongin was starting to worry because Bom should have been home an hour ago but there was still no sign of her. Even after 14 years, their worries as parents were never abated. If anything, since Bom had been allowed more freedom, all they did was worry more. And they were two of lucky ones because Bom was rarely anywhere other than two places. 

“You know where she is, Jongin-ah.”

Taemin wasn’t all that concerned. They went through the same motions every day. Instead, he was focusing on jotting down the new choreography he had to teach the dancers in the show he was directing. 

“I know, I know but I prefer it when she is home where we can see her,” he had been standing looking out of the window for the past twenty minutes.

“I know. Come here,” Taemin patted the seat next to him on the sofa and dropped his notebook on the floor, gesturing for Jongin to climb into his arms, “she’s a menace but she’ll still be at the studio. She has that exam tomorrow. There’s no getting through to her when she’s like this.”

“I know but,” Jongin’s voice wobbled, “she’s getting too grown up and I wish I could wrap her in bubble wrap and order her home when it suits me but I can’t. If I did that she wouldn’t be able to thrive. I don’t know how our parents coped with it…”

“That’s the trouble,” Taemin said softly, running his fingers through Jongin’s slowly greying hair, admiring the very slight pepperings of age showing, “you never understand how your parents worry until you are a parent yourself. And Bom is our parents’ payback.”

The comment made Jongin snort, “I still wish she were my student though. At least then I could kick her out of the studio and send her home.”

“Jongin, you teach toddlers…”   
  


“And?”

Taemin thought his boyfriend was adorable when he started getting all in his head about their daughter. He had a big heart but he was also really, really dramatic. 

It wasn’t long before Bom burst through the front door and began stomping around the house. 

“Shoes!” Taemin called, knowing the sound of her shoes clunking on the hardwood floor very well. 

He also knew the sound of her dance bag dropping on the floor. 

“Clothes in the wash.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bom called back.

Taemin raised his eyebrows, never quite used to the cheek coming from teenagers mouths. 

“She’s so stroppy,” he said in disbelief. 

“Yeah but you are a bit bossy,” Jongin admitted as he buried his head into the crook of Taemin’s neck.

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Taemin pushed Jongin away from him, only making him laugh. 

“That’s rich coming from you,” he snapped, “if I have to tell you to wash your work clothes one more week in a row, you’re moving out.”

It was then that Bom walked into the front room and her dads glanced up at her, forever admiring the girl she had grown to be. She may be a nightmare but she was their nightmare. 

“How was practise?” Jongin asked, deciding it was okay to hug Taemin again without getting pushed onto the floor. 

“Fine.”

She then headed out of the room again and into the kitchen. The sounds of her taking out plates, opening the fridge and turning on the microwave could be heard from the front room. Though it was difficult, her dads had to try not to take her attitude too personally. They knew it was most likely a phase. 

They needn’t have worried anyway. 

Out of the blue, Bom skipped back into the room and charged at her dads toppling on top of them to give them both tight bear hugs. She pecked them both on the cheek and gave them one of her dazzling smiles. 

“Love you, dads!” 

As quick as she came, she was off again, going about whatever business teenagers do. But she had still remembered her dads and for that, they would forever be grateful. 

  
  
  
  


Opening Night 

One of the best things about going to the ballet was always the anticipation before the show started. 

There was a certain atmosphere in the theatre that night; excited chatter filled the room, muffled oddly due to the unique acoustics. It was the first time a performance of  _ Giselle  _ had passed through the theatre and people were ready to see it again. 

The orchestra was warming up and the discordant sounds of instruments playing out of time with each other provided the backdrop to everyone taking their seats. 

Taemin and Jongin had already taken up their seats near the very front of the upper circle. They wouldn’t miss Bom’s first ever main role performance for the world and no one in that room was more excited than them.

“Do you think she’s eaten?” Jongin was shaking his leg, anxiously, and asking all kinds of strange questions. 

“Yes, Jongin. Bom has never missed a meal in her life. She will be fine.” 

This seemed to placate his boyfriend but, unfortunately for Taemin, they had company. 

“Hey, Taemin?” Kibum was flanking his other side, reading through the credits in the programme, “have you ever heard of this costume designer? I haven’t. Is Bom sure she’s any good at making costumes cause she doesn’t want her tutu falling to pieces when she’s up there?”

“That happens!?” Jongin sounded horrified. 

“No, Jongin,” Taemin said straight away, “that hasn’t ever happened.”   
  


“Never say never,” Kibum was unhelpful as ever.

“Oi, Taemin!” Taeyeon had tagged along as well, bringing her girlfriend with her who was quite happy digging into her bag of sweets before the show started, “is Bom doing her own makeup.”   
  


“No.” 

“Shame. I taught her well.”

Just as he thought he had been asked every question under the sun, Minho made his presence known. He had never been to a ballet in his whole life and was only there at all on the basis that Kibum would go to a football match with him, a promise Kibum made but wouldn’t keep. 

“Taemin? Do ballets have...talking?” 

The lights couldn’t have gone down quickly enough and, as the room fell into darkness, the group of friends felt their chests tighten as soon as the music started. They were excited, nervous, and sad all at once; their baby was all grown up. And she was about to give the performance of a lifetime. 

The second Bom stepped out on stage, her parents gasped. 

She was utterly radiant. At 23 years of age, she had grown to be the most beautiful young woman. Under the stage lights she shone like a star. As tall as she had become, as old as she was in that moment, she would always be her dads’ baby. She would always be that little girl who had dreamed of being a dancer, who had cried because she couldn’t have pointe shoes.

Bom would always be the teenager who loved her dads more than anything in the world and loved to dance just the same. Bom would always be the young girl who had worked so hard to earn her pointe shoes, who had proven to her parents that they had made the right decision to give in to her insistence. 

Even in the smile that crept through as she got into position, the little girl who had been dazzled by the magic of the ballet was still there. And her parents still loved her just as much.

Immediately as she started to dance, her dads both burst into messy tears. She was perfect. Every move was executed with the utmost precision and it was all because of her hard work and dedication. Proud didn’t even cut it. 

Quietly, they reached across to each other in the dark and held onto each other's hands.

“Look at her Taemin-ah,” Jongin whispered, “it might not be us up there anymore. But she gets to take our place. And she looks so beautiful.”

Taemin lifted Jongin’s hand to his mouth and kissed him there, struggling to hold himself together. 

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” 

The dance ended and the room erupted into applause. Jongin and Taemin clapped the loudest out of anyone else there. 

**Author's Note:**

> :')
> 
> This fic was so much fun to write so I sincerely hope it was enjoyable to read.   
> I have wanted to write a ballet au for so long now. I haven't danced for years so there may be inaccuracies tbh.   
> Here is the Swan Lake dance I referred to if you are interested. It's very good: https://youtu.be/edSQ5KO_xGw
> 
> Lots of love. Take care of yourselves!
> 
> Twitter: @yeoloutof10 come say hi if you want lol


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